


Dear Cas, Who Art in Purgatory

by Anglophile_Rin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Behind the Scenes, Brief mentions of suicide, Gen, M/M, Purgatory, prayers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:28:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anglophile_Rin/pseuds/Anglophile_Rin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear Cas, who art in Purgatory, hallowed be thy...trenchcoat, probably...</p><p>Dean prayed to Cas every night while they were in Purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Cas, Who Art in Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't sleep, and for the longest while I've had thoughts swirling in my head about what Dean would pray to Cas about all those nights in Purgatory. So, here's what I came up with. A little humourous (I hope), and a little angsty. A lot like Dean, really.

_Dear Cas, who art in Purgatory, hallowed be thy...trenchcoat, probably..._  
  
Dean leaned back against the tree trunk, trying to calm his own breathing so he could hear what was going on around him.  
  
Purgatory didn’t have hours, but he felt confident he’d been there a handful of them already. A handful of hours, and two fistfuls of monsters - something he’d never seen before with teeth and claws and all those good little bits perfectly capable of ripping his face off and wearing it for Halloween.  
  
Sure, it would be an improvement, but Dean liked his face where it was.  
  
He had gotten away, though. He still had the knife he always kept tucked into his boot. He had his handgun and even a spare mag of bullets. A search if his pockets had even turned up a set of brass knuckles, though he’d really prefer not to engage in any hand-to-hand anytime soon, thank you very much.  
  
He had weapons, and it seemed he could even use them. All those nit-picky rules on earth about silver and brass - none of it seemed to apply here. He’d run into no less than three different species so far, and a good ole fashioned knife to the heart or jugular seemed to do them just fine.  
  
What would be even better, though, would be his angel.  
  
So, when he stopped to breath, and when nothing else seemed to be on its immediate way to rip his lungs out in protest of said breathing, he did the only thing he could think of - he prayed.  
  
***  
  
 _Cas, I really could use your help, man. I turned around and you were gone, so... if you could come back that would be...great. So, yeah. Um, amen. I guess._  
  
***  
  
 _Castiel, who art better fucking still be alive, where the hell are you? I don’t know how many days it’s been. I think probably only a couple, but who knows, right? Does the sun seem to act weird to you? Is it even really the sun? I think it just sets when it feels like it, and makes it night whenever it’s convenient._  
  
 _It’s always fucking convenient. Especially for those damn things that can see in the dark._  
  
 _Could still use your help, buddy._  
  
***  
  
 _Cas, where are you hiding that stupid feathery ass of yours? Can you even find me? Do I still have those marks on my ribs? Does angel radio even work here?_  
  
 _You should really come find me._  
  
***  
  
 _You know, I took out a couple werewolves today. Wanna know the best part? I knew one of them. This chick Sammy and I met, before we even knew you. Another victim of the Sam Winchester Sex Curse. He shot her last time - it killed him a little, I think. I’d have done anything to keep him from having to feel that way, you know? It was like when he was six and he had his first crush, but Dad packed us up a few nights later and we just booked - he was actually heartbroken._

 _Do you think he looks like that now?_  
  
 _If we ever get out of here, don’t tell him I ganked his girlfriend, okay? Or that she went all psycho-bitch here. Let’s keep those looks to a minimum, okay?_  
  
***  
  
 _I hate hunting alone._  
  
***  
  
 _Are you there, Cas? It’s me, Dean. I know, you don’t get that reference. I’ll explain it to you if you get your ass from wherever it is to wherever I am, okay?_  
  
***  
  
 _I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here._

 

  
  
  
_I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here._

 

  
  
  
_I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here **now**. It’s not fair to let it work once and then not again, Cas. You’re flying in the face of science, here. It’s all about reproducibility, apparently. If you can’t do it like ninety times it’s not real. Do you want to not be real?_

 

  
  
 _I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here._  
  
***  
  
 _You know what I miss? Cheeseburgers. And wanting a cheeseburger. This might not be a big thing for you, but apparently we don’t need to eat here. Or sleep. Either that or this has  been the longest dragging three hours of my entire life. And that includes that time Sammy made me go see that last Lord of the Rings movie._  
  
 _He wouldn’t let me leave, Cas. I had drunk an entire large Coke, and he wouldn’t let me leave. I swear to God, if that movie had had one more freaking ending I was going to drop trough and piss right there._  
  
 _This would still be longer._  
  
***  
  
 _Do you have a family, Cas? A real one? That you talk to and like and want to spend time with? I know you have like, a bajillion brothers and sisters, but they all seem like they’re either your boss or you’re their boss. Or they’re Gabriel, in which case he’s probably somebody’s boss, but mostly he’s just a douche._  
  
 _I miss Sam. More than cheeseburgers, even._  
  
 _Don’t ever tell him I said that._  
  
***  
  
 _Cas, I really need you. I’m so fucking tired man. I know I don’t need sleep, but I want it. I want to lie down and close my eyes, but if I do something’s gonna put a stake through my heart._  
  
 _Maybe I should do it anyway._  
  
***  
  
 _Dear Castiel, please come find me. I’m near a big tree with a shit ton of leaves that I have just dubbed 34 Maple Street. So, mojo your way to the address and be my wingman again._  
  
***  
  
 _On second thought, that might have been an oak tree. Is there even a fucking difference?_  
  
***  
  
 _Dear Castiel, who still arts in Purgatory, is there a reason you bolted? There was something that jumped you, right? You better be okay. Not gonna lie, I’m pretty close to literally dying for an ally here, and if you can’t step up, that’s gonna be bad. So, just, be okay, alright? You just be alright, and I’ll find you._  
  
***  
  
 _I need some backup, Cas._  
  
***  
  
 _I could really use your help, man._  
  
***  
  
 _Fuck it, I miss you, Cas. Just come do that creepy staring thing, would you? Or misinterpret a joke, or just stand there all awkward middle school angel. I think I’m starting to forget what that looks like._  
  
***  
  
 _Well, I’ve got some backup, it seems. Who knew you could make friends in Purgatory? With a vamp, no less. Benny says there’s a way out, Cas. I’m gonna find it, and I’ll find you on the way. Then we can go home, right? Well... my home, I guess. I mean, you can go to your home, too, but maybe you could hang out in mine for a while first._  
  
***  
  
 _Benny whistles when he fights. It’s a little creepy. The guy’s good with a knife, though._  
  
***  
  
 _I really miss you, Cas._  
  
***  
  
 _Can you dream while you’re awake? Isn’t that just a hallucination? Can you go crazy in Purgatory?_  
 _I think I’m going crazy. I keep dreaming about you. I think I’m dreaming you wrong. I think your voice is lower in real life._  
  
***  
  
 _Dear Cas, is this how you’re even supposed to start a prayer? You never really told me and, you’ll be shocked to find, we weren’t big church-goers when I was a kid._  
  
 _Well, that’s kind of a lie, we really were. But mostly for the use of holy ground and stolen rosaries and things like that._  
  
 _And what does Amen mean? Is it Latin? I kind of suck at Latin, as you may or may not be aware. I feel kind of dumb saying dear Cas, all the time, though._  
  
***  
  
 _Cas, can you hear me? Are you still here?_  
  
***  
  
 _When I was like, nine or ten, I had this friend. I know, me, a friend, kind of a weird concept. But we stopped in a town for a few weeks, and I sat in the only open seat next to this kid and he was wearing a Metallica t-shirt, so I knew he was awesome, and we became friends. That’s how kids do it, by the way. Normally no one pulls anyone else out of Hell, branding their arms like a damn cow in the process._  
  
 _I  kissed him before we left town. First real kiss and everything. He wrinkled his nose and called me ‘grody.’ Then he showed me the new tape he’d gotten for his birthday - it was the Beach Boys. It was that more than the 'grody' that doomed the friendship._  
  
***  
  
 _Did you remake me or just fix me? Am I made of like, rocks and shit now. Cause if I am, next time go for something a bit stronger - ghouls pack one hell of a punch._  
  
***  
  
 _Cas, I’m scaring myself a little. As much as I want to get home - I kind of like it here. It’s easier. I know how to do this, I know how to fight and run and kill and dodge death (except in pizza parlours in Chicago, the guy’s fucking persuasive). I can’t fuck anything up too badly, the fate of humanity doesn’t rest on whether or not I can gank this guy over here or if I can keep my ass in one piece for the next few days. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to make sure Sammy’s alright. And no one has any ulterior motives - they want to live and they want to kill you, that’s about it._  
  
 _Simple._  
  
 _Easy._  
  
 _Pure._  
  
 _I need to find you now, Cas, or I’m scared I won’t want to leave. What does that make me, if I want to stay in Monster Heaven forever?_  
  
***  
  
 _Sammy used to do this thing, Cas, where he’d pretend to be asleep so he could wake up from a nightmare and crawl into my bed with me. Don’t get pervy or anything, he gave it up when he was like, five or something, but it was cute. He didn’t want to tell me he was scared, but nightmares were okay. I really wish he could have stayed that young._  
  
***  
  
 _Do you ever want kids, Cas, who art somewhere near a river? I think I do. Or I did. I wouldn’t want them to end up here, though. Can angels even have kids?_  
  
***  
  
 _Benny says we’re close to where you’re supposedly camping out. I still don’t know if it’s been hours or years, but I can’t quite picture what colour blue your eyes are. It’s not like you ever blinked, you giant weirdo, they shouldn’t be that hard to remember._  
  
 _Dear Cas, be all in one piece when I get there. This is a real prayer, okay? I mean, most prayers are like wishes anyway, right? So, I’ll be there tomorrow - just hold on that long, and then I’ll have your back._  
  
***  
  
“Cas.”  
  
“Dean.”  
  
***  
  
 _Dear Castiel, who still art in fucking Purgatory even though I’m here on normal earth with my douchewad of a brother who didn’t know where I was and apparently didn’t care._  
  
 _Why are you still there? What kind of dumbass move was that? I had you, Cas. I fucking **had you**_. _Did you not think I could do it? Did you not think it would work?_  
  
 _I could have done it, Cas. You just had to hold on. Why didn’t you hold on?_  
  
***  
  
 _Dear Cas, who’s most likely fucking dead, so dear whichever angel feels like listening in on me today. Fuck you. What gives you the right to die on me? I never asked you to die, Cas. I wanted you to live. Why couldn’t you have done that for me? Not nearly as hard as pulling some guy out of Hell, or as carving a fucking sigil into your chest and zapping yourself to God only knows where. So, yeah. Fuck you. You fucking asshole._  
  
***  
  
 _I hate you so much, Cas. I can’t stop this roiling in my gut. I feel like I’m gonna be sick on pretty much a constant basis. I can’t sleep in a bed because it feels wrong so I sit on the floor in front of the bed and I can hear the AC turn on and off and it sounds like wings. But it’s not. Because I loved you and you died, because that’s what people I love do._  
  
***  
  
 _Dear Cas. Stop haunting me. I’m sorry. I let you down, and I’m sorry. But I swear, I’m gonna empty my own wrists if you don’t stop haunting me._  
  
***  
  
 _Dear Cas, who art in my motel room, what the holy fuck...._


End file.
